


it's all perception

by missgoalie75



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 07:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11641869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missgoalie75/pseuds/missgoalie75
Summary: Lily and James' last five holidays.





	it's all perception

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Title is from "Young" by The Paper Kites.
> 
> Notes: Thank you to Kahlia for co-running this fest with me and being the best beta in the entire world.

**I – 1976**

It's a terrible thing – apparently it's a _crime_ , but Lily Evans isn't exactly the biggest fan of the holiday season for a lot of valid reasons. First, her family is relatively small, and the relatives that are still alive aren't very close with her immediate family, so it usually tends to be her parents and Petunia. Given Lily's deteriorating relationship with her older sister, it's only gotten worse.

Second, there seem to be a lot of deaths during the holiday seasons, beginning in mid-November and ending right around New Years. First one was her grandpa when she was eleven a week before Christmas, then her grandma almost exactly a year later. Then it was neighbors across the street due to a car accident, which happened while on their way home from a New Year's party in another town over, which happened when she was fourteen.

Then there's been the disappearances that have been happening gradually over the last year, so who knows what will happen during the upcoming holidays. She's trying desperately not to think about it.

So, Lily doesn't exactly find the holidays to be the most _cheerful_ time of the year. She'll get flashes of it when she sees the decorations around Hogwarts, the way her friends gush about going home, spending time with family. The music occasionally brings a smile to her face, but sometimes it just makes her nostalgic and sad, so she'll avoid the common room when it's played on the phonograph. The one thing she doesn't have a problem with is the food – that's always welcome and delicious.

Strangely enough, there are a few others like her in that they don't find the holidays as wonderful as everyone else. Like…

She heads down the stairs from the girls' dormitory at around two in the morning, unable to fall back asleep after waking up from a stressful dream. The common room is mostly empty save for James Potter lounging on the couch that she was hoping to rest on, lazily flicking his wand at floating pieces of parchment, folding them into animals.

One of the stairs squeaks under her foot and his eyes flicker to her. She exhales softly and nods in greeting, walking over to the dying fire and taking a seat in the large armchair so they face one another.

"Alright, Evans?" he asks, his voice low and a little scratchy.

She swallows. "Fine. Yourself?"

"The same."

One of the parchment animals flies down and lands in her lap on top of her book. A bird.

"I didn't think you cared much for arts and crafts," she says, picking it up gingerly. "This is nice magic."

"Thanks. My mum can make really intricate ones, but these are alright."

It still throws her off months later, this occasional self-deprecation. "How are your parents doing?" she asks.

He smiles at her briefly before focusing back on his parchment animals. "They're doing well, thanks. Not quite as mobile, but Fleamont is making the most of it, primarily using a bath mat to transport himself around the house."

She laughs a little at the imagery. "Something I'm sure you inspired him to do."

"I personally would've used the nice, oriental rug in the parlor – much larger and more extravagant."

"Of course you would," she snorts. 

"I would give you a ride, of course."

"That's certainly kind of you."

"I am nothing if not a gentleman." He sends another two animals into her lap – some sort of rabbit and she thinks a deer. "How is the Evans family doing – have any good plans for the holiday?"

She frowns. "Not really, just the usual, watching some Muggle films –"

" _Oh_ , like what?" he asks excitedly, looking more awake.

"Ehm…well…we like to watch _It's a Wonderful Life_ , which is about a man who after giving up a lot of things for people, wishes he was never born and comes to realize how important he was to a lot of people."

James furrows his brow in thought. "Interesting. How does he realize it?"

"His guardian angel shows him a kind of…alternative reality."

"A…guardian angel? Seriously?"

"It's a Christmas movie, so yes, an angel."

"Right…fascinating. Do you like this…film?"

"I like _A Miracle on 34th Street_ more."

"What's that one about?"

Lily is about to explain it, has a brief synopsis on the tip of her tongue, but the fact of the matter is, James Potter didn't grow up in her world and will ask a million questions like a _mall Santa_ is and _what's the difference between the Santas_ and _why is there more than one_ and it's two o'clock in the morning and Lily is _tired_.

"Muggle thing, I'm assuming?"

"What?"

He shrugs as best he can while lying down. "You just get this look on your face whenever someone asks you about certain Muggle things. It's like you age about ninety years prior to answering."

She swallows. "I'm sorry – I know you're genuinely curious, it's just…it's two in the morning."

He nods. "I'm probably going to London at some point – I'll do my own research." He shoots her a smile.

It's moments like these that Lily genuinely worries about herself properly falling for him. She smiles shyly and curls a piece of hair behind her ear, looking down at the animals again. She picks up the deer and runs a finger along its back. "How come you're not fond of this time of year? I mean, you show more enthusiasm for Valentine's Day."

"All those lovely chocolates I get? It's really no wonder it's my favorite."

She rolls her eyes. "I know it's you lot just sending gifts to yourselves."

He grins. "We've never said anything to the contrary."

"'I'm so loved, don't you feel that way, Padfoot?' 'Oh yes, so much so, Prongs,'" she mocks in different pitched voices, making sure James' voice was very high.

He laughs. "Well, we spoke the truth."

"I suppose you were." She runs her teeth over her bottom lip. "How are you all doing? I know the rest of the motley crew doesn't love Christmas either."

His facial expression gradually changes to a more solemn expression. "Well, I'm not sure you've noticed," he starts, trying to smile. "but Peter tends to get sick every holiday season. Cold, flu, dragon pox, you name it – he always gets sick." He lowers his voice. "Remus' own… _illness_ tends to fall right before or right after Christmas, so that tends to…disrupt things."

"Right, well, this year is better, right? It was earlier in the month," Lily replies just as softly. "Although I'm sure he won't come back to school until…after? It falls on January fifth."

And sometimes, James will look at her and it'll hit her that maybe he actually _does_ properly fancy her.

"And, ehm…" James starts again, sighing. "Sirius' family is, well, you know. Terrible. So the holidays just brought out the worst in the lot."

"Well, he's with you now, yeah? He's living with you."

"Yeah, that's been great, I've been telling him to just move in with me for ages."

She waits for him to continue, but he doesn't. She gets up from the chair and walks slowly to his feet, sitting down at the edge of the couch. He brings his hands to his sides and pushes himself into sitting position. They stare at each other for a few moments.

"I don't know what's going on," he admits, almost inaudible, looking down. She glances up at the ceiling and the parchment animals have frozen. "He's just…he's…"

"Acting out?" she supplies for him, wincing. She's noticed it too – Sirius has been rowdier than normal. His pranks have been a little meaner, his laughter a little crueler. Lily would describe him as being a loose canon; she just didn't think James and the rest have noticed or cared.

Clearly, that isn't the case.

"I told my parents to make sure they intercept all owls that come home. Make sure that his parents don't send anything to him. He doesn't need that."

She swallows and nods. "I saw his brother with…"

James' sharp eyes meet hers, but she looks away. "Regulus is going to do what his family wants now more than ever. There's nothing anyone can do about it," James says.

"How can Sirius come out of that family?"

James shrugs. "I don't know."

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"Why don't you like the holidays?"

He exhales softly, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. "I like them fine, I mean, they're usually quiet because it's just my parents, but, my mates aren't thrilled about it and no amount of cheering up is going to change how they feel, so I just…go along with it." He smiles sheepishly, slipping his glasses back on his face. "I understand why you don't, I mean…I'm sorry about your grandparents."

She blinks in surprise. "I'm…you remember that?"

He looks at her like she sprouted a second head. "Of course. You're my housemate."

"Now we're friends."

He smiles brightly. "Brilliant."

She looks up at the clock above the fireplace and sighs. "We should try to get some sleep."

"Right." He flicks his wand and the parchment animals in the air float away, flying up the staircases to the boys' and girls' dormitories.

"Something tells me they don't have cute messages in them," she guesses.

He grins. "Open one for yourself, Evans."

She narrows her eyes, but she picks up the bird and carefully unfolds it, the air suddenly smelling of chocolate. She chuckles in disbelief. "That's it? A whiff?"

"I would expect more praise from a Charms master – that's pretty good stuff!"

He's not wrong, but it takes her a moment to realize that some of those animals are probably not carrying such pleasant smells.

"How many of those are going to smell of dungbombs?"

His grin turns a little wicked as he swings his legs over the couch, standing onto his feet. "G'night, Lily."

She stands up, needing to look up at his face. "G'night, James."

She opens the rabbit parchment once she's in bed and she smells the ocean, a precious, fleeting moment of summer when she closes her eyes. She leaves the deer on her nightstand before falling asleep.

**II – 1977**

A year later, and it's mostly the same. Her mother is sadder than usual – she can tell from the letters – and the disappearances in the wizarding world continues. There's been a death – the mother of a Ravenclaw who was a year above her. They're saying it was werewolves.

Some things are different. Sirius has mostly returned to the way he was, not before nearly getting Severus killed a few months ago, but she tries not to dwell on that. It wasn't a good time for anyone. 

Instead of a Prefect badge, she wears a Head Girl one. She's still getting used to seeing the Head Boy badge on James' chest.

They have rounds together, which is what they've been doing for the last two hours, but everyone seems to be behaving and not roaming the corridors, which is nice. There have been a few abandoned mistletoes and she tries not to blush, reminded of the shameless fantasies she indulged in while walking to classes, imagining getting caught under one with him.

Her feelings may have changed a little, too. Or, maybe not _changed_ – evolved, perhaps. She's always found him cute despite his being a prat half the time, but now she likes what he has to say and thinks he may have one of the biggest hearts she knows.

"I didn't see Peter at dinner…" Lily starts.

"Stomach bug, we think – he ate something suspicious from Sirius' side of the room."

Lily winces. "Poor thing. Shouldn't he know better at this point?"

"I swear he was starting to catch a cold – he was sneezing the night before. If it weren't this, it would be that."

She shakes her head with a laugh. "Unbelievable."

"Yeah, let's just hope it's out of his system before he gets on the train."

"For all of our sakes."

"So, are you really going to be meeting your sister's boyfriend?"

Lily rolls her eyes. "Christmas Eve. I'm sure it'll be a total bore, especially since they met at her job." She looks up at him and smiles. "Is everyone coming to your house?"

James rubs the back of his head. "Yeah, the folks will be hosting the Pettigrews and the Lupins. I was _going_ to send an invitation to the Blacks, but Remus caught me trying to sneak a dungbomb in there."

She sighs. "Are you trying to get rid of your stash before we're done with school?"

He shrugs. "Maybe. Otherwise they'd be collecting dust."

"I'm sure you'd all pull pranks in whatever job you take."

He winces a little, rubbing the back of his head. "Ah, not sure if what I'm going to do will let me."

She inhales sharply. She thinks she knows exactly what kind of _job_ he's referring to because she's been considering the same thing – whispers and vague comments made by mutual friends a year or two older than them. 

He doesn't ask her about her career because he knows what's available to her and all other Muggleborns in their year: little to _nothing_. Witches and wizards don't want targets on their livelihood and the Ministry isn't necessarily to be trusted, if Dumbledore's warnings at the start of term feast are anything to heed by.

He just bumps into her arm and points ahead to an archway. "Mistletoe."

She stops breathing and something flips in her stomach. Whatever hope she feels though is quickly replaced with annoyance. "Whoever invented those _godforsaken_ things should be fined – nothing is funny about these plants that eat hair!"

James throws his head back and laughs. "Nothing gets past you."

"And yet the fact that you tried is so sad."

"Well, you know me, always willing to put in the effort."

She hums as she disposes of the monstrosity, turning it to dust. "Too bad it wasn't real," she says offhandedly, heart beating inside her chest so loudly that he _must_ be able to hear it from where he is.

He stops walking. She thinks he might have a gob smacked expression on his face, but instead his eyes are narrowed in curiosity, head tilted a little to the side. "And…if it were?" he questions, voice low.

She raises an eyebrow. "I thought you were supposed to be bright, Potter."

He nods, suddenly business-like. "Right. Come along, then." He holds out his hand and once she takes it, they break out into a run. 

They don't go terribly far – just to the end of the corridor by one of the moving staircases and –

A mistletoe.

She looks up and then lowers her gaze to meet James'. "Well?" she prompts him.

He smiles and she loses her breath and keeps losing it as he kisses her. He tastes of Butterbeer and treacle tart, things that could be had all year round, but she thinks she wouldn't have minded if he had something festive during dinner.

A bright point in an otherwise tense season, coming to a breaking point when Vernon Durlsey, the most vile man she's ever had the misfortune of meeting, goes down on one knee during Christmas Eve dinner and Lily _can't_ – can't accept this man, this life for her sister, who deserves so much better. 

But Petunia doesn't care what she thinks, says awful things to her, and Christmas Day is _unbearable_ with their not speaking to one another.

Her holiday does, however, improve when a few days later she escapes to Diagon Alley for something familiar, what she now considers home, and sees James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter walking around with their parents, returning and exchanging gifts.

It's a little too soon to meet the parents, but James' mother and father are such lovely people that she can see exactly where he gets his wonderful heart from.

(She snogs him in the back of Whizz Hard Books, which has him laughing against her mouth at one point when her hips brush against his. She's not quite ready for that yet, but she's looking forward to it.)

**III – 1978**

"We should get married," James says in a rush as Lily heals a cut above his brow with a shaky wand.

Lily can't focus beyond healing James' wounds, unable to comprehend the words coming out of his mouth. She doesn't know if she's shaking because they walked, apparated, walked, apparated, and walked in that order to get to safety and she's still cold, or if she's still unable to process the fact that they fought _him_ and _lived_.

They debrief Dumbledore and McGonagall. She doesn't think she's ever seen McGonagall so shaken. She tries to feed them biscuits and offers tea, whisky, Butterbeer, but Lily's throat has swollen shut and James takes tea, holding it between his hands and not bringing it to his mouth once.

Eventually they're home in their small flat and he says it again: "We should get married."

Everyone is getting married. Eloping, having accidental children – all signs that there's little hope in surviving the darkness ahead. 

She wants to argue. In another lifetime, she would. They're _way_ too young, they have so much time to be engaged and get married and have children when they're ready and prepared and –

Tears leak from her eyes because her arm is sore from having it mended and James was _so close_ to being taken away. She curls into him without saying anything and cries on his chest, soaking his jumper. He can't seem to stop shivering.

They sleep late and wake up at noon. James' eyes are shut, but she knows he's awake. She considers reaching over him for his glasses on his nightstand, but she's frozen beside him when he says, "We should get married," his voice scratchy.

She swallows. "James –"

For a moment, his face crumbles and he hides his face in his pillow, inhaling and exhaling shakily. "I can't pretend we have time," he admits, sounding defeated, upset.

Her eyes sting and she bites her inner cheek to keep herself from crying. Maybe he's been holding it in since his parents died not even two months ago; maybe after going to quick ceremony after ceremony – what should be full of happiness is soured with urgency; maybe it's seeing one person in the morning and hearing if their death by the end of the day has done something irreversible.

She reaches across the space between them runs a hand through his hair. He sobs.

Eventually, once they've both stopped crying, wipes his face dry and nods. "Let's get married in the spring," she says. "It'll give me something to look forward to after this bloody cold winter."

He snorts and presses his forehead against hers. "Alright. April, then? May?"

She smiles. "I like May. Seems like a good month."

"I have to get a ring," he ponders out loud, curling a piece of her hair behind her ear.

"Something _small_ so nothing will happen to it," she warns him.

"But how else will people know that you're a kept woman?"

"I'm going to knee you if you say anything like that again."

"Okay, okay, fine, we can shop together, if you'd like."

"Sounds like a nice way to salvage the holidays."

"Oh, it'll be ruined again – Peter _and_ Remus are suffering from stomach ailments."

"For the love of _God_."

James laughs out loud and it's easy for the moment to pretend that they're just eighteen year olds who are crazy in love and living simple lives.

**IV – 1979**

She's late.

It could be stress – she knows that it can disrupt menstruation cycles, but she's always been regular. Blessedly fortunate since her very first period at thirteen years old.

It's too early to tell or determine, but she knows.

James went out with Remus, Sirius, and Peter since it's the first time in a while they're all together. Missions with the Order have separated them, sometimes for weeks at a time. Lily is currently sitting on the floor of the bathroom, feeling like the universe is disappearing all around her.

This _was not supposed to happen_. They've been careful, she's made sure of it. She refused to be like her peers, shagging each other at any time, believing it may be the last, bringing children into this world that's full of uncertainty.

She wanted to wait until the war was over.

She doesn't know how long she's sitting there, but it must be a long while because James has come home and finds her.

"Please don't tell me _you're_ sick too – we had to end the night because Peter – you know what, no, it's too disgusting, never mind." James sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm not sick. Not yet. I think my mum got sick," Lily responds, avoiding looking at him.

"What? What do you mean 'not yet?'"

She swallows over the lump in her throat. "I don't know for sure," she half-lies, "but. I'm late."

Silence.

"Late?" he questions, sounding genuinely confused.

She wants to strangle him.

" _Late_ ," she snaps. "As in, my period is _late_. It didn't come last month and I don't think it's coming in a few days either _late_."

Now it clicks – it's almost as if it's an audible noise.

It's scary how he throws his arms out to brace himself against the doorway as his legs give out from under him. It's graceless the way he plops himself on the ground across from her and the few moments when he stares at her is almost too much for her – does she lose her temper? Does she cry? How is she supposed to react? But she's saved from committing because suddenly James is almost on top of her, head halfway down the toilet as he vomits.

She rests her head against his back, feeling his muscles contract every time he empties his stomach. 

_I'm sorry_ , he says. _We should've been more careful_.

_I love you_ , he says. _Whatever you want to do…_

"It's _our_ decision," she states. "We both did this, _made_ this."

"But you're the one who's going to have to carry it – him, her, whatever the hell you potentially birth!"

She almost wants to laugh, but really, she just loves him so much. "Let's talk about it."

She doesn't know how long they spend on the bathroom floor. She talks about science, explaining to James the difference between a baby and a fetus, how right now, there's nothing more than a group of cells; it doesn't have a heartbeat quite yet, she thinks. He talks about his parents, how they tried so incredibly hard to have a child, miscarrying twice before having James; it was always viewed as miracle.

She's tired of endings and deaths. An agreement is made. It's solemn, at first. They're scared – _terrified_ – but she knows they're going to do whatever it takes. James will be such a wonderful father and she thinks she'll be a pretty great mother. They have friends who will help and she refuses to let horrible people ruin what's supposed to be a joyous thing.

So, eventually, they laugh, they kiss, they consider names. She'll be _damned_ though if whatever child they have carries the name _Fleamont_ ; some things just shouldn't be passed down the bloodline, especially if it'll ruin the child's life.

**V – 1980**

It's been almost four months since they've locked themselves away in Godric's Hollow. She remembers when she was almost eight months pregnant and she was out at a pub with James and the rest of the motley crew, talking about how they were going to raise the baby.

"We have to make the holidays better for the bugger," Sirius had said.

This wasn't what she had in mind for Harry's first Christmas.

They did what they could – ordering gifts was difficult. They didn't receive many letters with holiday greetings – McGonagall sent a lovely one, and so did Sirius, Remus, and Peter, which is a pleasant surprise since she knows things have been strained lately between Sirius and Remus.

"Oi, want to see what your mates sent us?" Lily calls out from the kitchen, making her way back to the living room where the Christmas tree is.

James is prostrate on the floor, making faces at Harry, who is giggling. "Yeah, open it."

She opens the letter and once she does, she immediately starts laughing.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Let me take him," Lily offers, dropping the letter onto James' chest before carrying Harry over to the couch.

James laughs immediately, staring at the artwork featuring two deer, which Sirius kindly took to labeling as "Lily" and "Prat" and on the inside, there's the additional message "next year will be a fucking party."

"We should have a fucking party," James says, still lying on the floor. "We should go somewhere nice and warm. Like Australia – it's summer down there right now, yeah? How can the holidays be miserable when it's hot and sunny?"

He likes to do this now – plan trips to far off corners of the world. It breaks her heart knowing how far his mind takes him.

"That sounds nice," she says wistfully.

(Her mind is usually not far behind his.)

Maybe next year they will be free. They can take Harry to a mass, just to hear the beautiful choirs. Maybe they can go to some tropical island and start a new tradition of escaping the memories of Christmas Past. Maybe they can go shopping in London and James' best friends, all godfathers, if not all by name, will spoil him absolutely rotten. Maybe they can make Christmas a happy time for Harry, have it better than what they had.

She fantasises about it – for when he's two, five, ten, thirteen, seventeen, when Harry's older and has children and she and James are old and struggling to keep up. 

But for now, she tries to make do, kicking the sole of his foot with her own. "Want to watch a film?"

He lifts his head up. "Absolutely. And then we can bake those butter biscuits and then we can have holiday-themed sex."

She raises an eyebrow. "Do I want to know what you have in mind for that?"

He gets to his feet. "It's a surprise!"

She rolls her eyes, getting to her feet, resting Harry on her hip. "Alright, let's get started, shall we?"

All this considered, it's not a bad Christmas. In fact, it's nice. It doesn't take long to put Harry to sleep and then they're lying in bed together.

They don't like talking about it – their son being the Chosen One, the thought that this war will last for decades. There's no way they can last that long, especially when they're beginning to suspect that someone in the Order is betraying them.

Lily shuts her eyes and breathes deeply.

"I think I ate too many of those biscuits," James complains.

She snorts. "How are we supposed to teach our son good habits if you're still unable to figure out what your biscuit limit is?"

"That, my beautiful wife, is a lifelong journey."

"Right. Then, how did I seem to find mine so early in life?"

"Because you're brilliant and I'm a sad excuse for a man."

Lily laughs. "Well, at least you're right about that."

He reaches over to cup her face. "I hope you know, Lily Evans, that you've made the last five holidays quite lovely, and I look forward to another one hundred more."

She grins. "We're going to be a hundred and twenty, then?"

"Well, who knows, I think that's a low estimate. I was really hoping we could beat Dumblepops, yeah?"

Lily has to cover her mouth because her laugh is sudden and loud and she doesn't want to wake up Harry. "What if I get sick of you? What if I want to find a younger man?"

"You will sincerely miss making deer puns, _dear_."

"I can manage," Lily quips.

"And you'll miss certain body parts."

"Really? You think we'll be going at it at two-hundred?"

"Merlin, I hope so."

She shakes her head with an amused smile. "Dream on."

"Alright, well, how about my face? You'll miss that."

"Mmm…" She scrunches her nose.

"I'd miss yours," he says.

She reaches out to tap the tip of his nose. "Alright, fine, I'd miss yours."

He gives her a toothy smile. "So, next year, Australia, and then the year after that, we could try America, _or_ we can be very romantic and go to Paris. And then the year after _that_ –"

She listens to him list place after place, eyes drifting shut as she dreams of what may come.


End file.
